


Partner In Crime

by bigirlgiggles



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Brotherly Love, Jack Kelly - Freeform, M/M, Tickle Fights, Tickling, albert dasilva - Freeform, foster brothers - Freeform, implied jatherine, playfighting, racetrack higgins - Freeform, tickle fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:58:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigirlgiggles/pseuds/bigirlgiggles
Summary: Race knows he misses fooling around with Jack, he just can't figure out how to let him know.





	Partner In Crime

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic felt good to write and there’s a severe lacking of silly brotherly Newsies fics. This may also be the longest fic I’ve ever written. The newsies fandom is lacking in brotherly fics that aren't strictly Jack/Crutchie, Jack/Davey, or Jack/Spot.

Race’s specialty was hiding things.

Even when he was younger, if just enough to be incredibly annoying. He would hide Finch’s slingshot, wrapping it in one of Button’s socks and tucking it between the bunkbed shared by Elmer and Blink. Finch would search and search and Race would smirk while he watched, pretending to be immersed in the card game he was playing with Specs. Then Finch would leave and come back dragging Jack into the room of crowded boys. 

“Where’d you last seen it, Finch?”

“It was on my bed! I swear, I didn’t do nothin’ with it!”

“You had ta have moved it, it don’t just walk away on its own!”Jack scanned the room, his brown eyes meeting Race’s blue. Race kept his blank poker face, taking more interest in the game he was playing with Specs rather than look back at Jack.

Finch huffed and yanked his blankets off of the bed. “I didn’t!”

“Racer,” Jack walked over to the two boys, his voice strangely calm.

“Hiya Jack.”Race placed down another card and Specs huffed, throwing down one of his own. “How was sellin-”

“Racetrack. Did ya happen to see Finch’s slingshot anywhere?”

“Me?”Race feigned innocence, and for being barely twelve, he was pretty damn good at his performance. He still managed to have the same sort of childlike innocence that he did when he had hidden Specs’ glasses. Not like seven-year-old Elmer who batted his eyelashes too much, or eleven year old Albert whose tell of his voice going slightly hoarse when he lied always made it seethrough. 

Race was calm and collected.

“Racetrack.”Jack rose his eyebrows, stepping closer to Race. “You don’t know nothin’ about Finch’s missing slingshot?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him with it all day.”

“Just like ya didn’t know nothin’ about Buttons’ missing sewin’ kit a couple weeks back?”

“Just like that.” Race nodded.

Jack made a small mmhmm noise, crossing his arms and looking closely at Race. “You’se got sumthin in ya mouth.”

“Jack, do you think Finch lost his slingshot in my mouth?”Race questioned. “You’se losin’ more than just a slingshot.”

“If I find that slingshot and it's broken or even near anything of yours, Racetrack Higgins, I swear you’se gonna regret it.” The playful but somehow still warning look in Jack’s eye assured Race he meant no harm, but he was still somewhat serious.

“Look at that!”Race nodded toward Finch, who was crouched behind Elmer and Blink’s bed, unwrapping his slingshot with a grimace on his face. “Those are...don't those socks belong to Buttons, Finch?”Race looked up at Jack and shrugged. “I had nothin to do with it.”

“Buttons!”Finch shouted, already stomping down the Lodging House stairs, no doubt to give Buttons hell for something he didn’t do. 

“At least wrap it in clean socks next time.” Jack looked at Racetrack shook his head before walking off.

Teasing the younger newsies was fun, sure, and it only ever made one of them cry (Race had forgotten that no one was allowed to touch Romeo’s stuffed doll.That aftermath took several apologies and Romeo squeezing himself into the bed next to Albert as he did not fully trust Race for a while), but Jack never seemed to find it as amusing as Race did. He would always pretend to be uninterested, marching off to go back to whatever he was doing previously.over the years, had he been anyone else, Race would have given up.

Race didn’t want that.  
He wanted Jack to see where he hid things.  
He wanted Jack to look at something, dammit.

So, Race did what he had to do. Something none of the other newsies never dared to do.

He had gotten back to the Lodging house early, only Smalls sitting on the squishy couch in the front room. It was barely past six, everybody would be selling the evening paper at the height of the rush. Race had sold all of his quickly and rather easily. A fresh new lineup of the ponies always sold fast at Sheepshead. He made his way up to Jack’s penthouse, looking around to make sure the older boy was still out selling.

Race frowned. Jack didn’t even sleep on a mattress. He had just assumed he had, the same way Jack and Crutchie slept on a mattress on the floor when it got too cold to sleep on the roof. He was sleeping on the floor in the middle of the roof, a thin navy blue blanket hung over the railing. He had rolls of sketching paper no doubt from Medda leaned against the doorway, speckled jars of old paint water and small bottles of paint shoved off behind the entrance. He spotted the mug of paintbrushes. Race rose his eyebrows.

He was going to simply hide Jack’s blanket under Mush’s mattress.

Hiding paintbrushes would be...smaller. Easier for him, even. Not necessarily for Jack, but that’s what Race wanted.

Crouching down, Race started to slip Jack’s dry brushes into his pockets. He listened for footsteps, hearing Jack’s booming voice from the street below. It was basic newsie talent to be able to shout over the hustle and bustle of lower Manhattan-you had to if you wanted to sell papes before the rush was over and you were left with losses- and yet Jack somehow had a voice that made it to the top of buildings.

He took the stairs down two by two, nearly missing the last one and slipping easily back into the bedroom. Only a few others were in there, having just gotten off and decided to skip the dinner rush at Jacobi’s to wait a while. Albert was there, lying across his top bunk above Race’s with his arm thrown over his eyes.

Race walked up to Smalls and Romeo’s bed, taking the brushes from his pocket and dropped two on each side where the worn down mattresses did not quite meet the bed in Smalls’ top bunk.

“Hey, ” Race nudged Albert’s foot hanging off as he plopped himself down on his bed under Albert’s. “You seen Jack?”

“Was on the way up when I walked over,” The seemingly exhausted redhead answered, swinging his leg gently in a lame attempt to nudge Race back. “Dunno where he is now. Musta got caught up with Kath or summin’.”

Almost on cue, Jack’s distinct stomping could be heard as he made his way up the stairs, talking over Mush’s excited chatter.

“I’se comin’ right back. Just gonna go lie down for a bit!” Jack ruffled his hair, laughing as Mush,ever the dramatic flopped face first onto his bunk. “Ain’t the end of the world, Mush. Long day caught up to me.”

Race attempted to look busy as Jack walked past them to the stairs up to the roof, counting his change from the day and tucking the needed sixty cents for papes into his pocket and sliding the other coins into a sock, tucking it under his pillow.

It took exactly two minutes for Jack to come back down the stairs, looking around the room for a second before walking over to Mush. “Ya little sneak, did ya get up to my penthouse after I left this mornin’?”

“Nuh-uh.”Mush looked up at Jack, eyes wide and innocent.

“Ya sure, Mush?”Jack rose his eyebrows and Mush nodded, light curls bouncing.

“Promise. I’se been here the whole time!”

“Last time I let you sleep in, huh.” Jack moved on, scanning the windowsills and floors as he walked between bunks, peering under the lower bunks before feeling the spaces between the bed frame and the mattress on both sides of each bed.

Dammit. He would find them in no time.

Jack made it to Romeo’s bed, huffing when he came up with nothing. He reached up, tipping Smalls’ mattress up, the brushes rolling out from where they were pinned and softly thumping onto the quilt on Romeo’s unmade bed below.

Calmly, Jack tucked three of the brushes into his pocket, one behind his ear. He walked over so he was standing at the foot of Race and Albert’s bed, looking up at Albert.

“Hey.” He scratched the ball of Albert’s foot, continuing to speak when Albert jerked his foot away. “You got any idea how my brushes got inta Smalls’ bed, Al?”

“No.”Albert grumbled, pulling his legs up so Jack could no longer reach him as easily. “Been up here the whole time.” He turned, burying his face in his pillow.

“If you’ve been up there like a log the whole time, and Mush’s been lyin’ over there since I left him brokenhearted, how did-”

“Dunno, Jack! Ask Race!” 

Had his poker face not have been so good, Race would have flinched. 

“He’s been here the whole time too. I’ve been asleep.”

Jack looked at Race, raising an eyebrow. “Mush didn’t do it. Albert’s been sleepin’ the whole time. Smalls is downstairs, Blink’s in Queens for the day. That leaves you.”

“We live with a ton of other people, Jacky.” Race rolled his eyes. “One of the littles probably snuck up and-”

“They can’t get the lock open to get out to the penthouse or get up high enough to get in Smalls’ bed without help.”

“Kids these days can surprise you.” Race replied smoothly, adding in a shrug.

Jack laughed, unable to help himself. “Ya know what,Anthony?”

Jack rarely called Race by his full name, if ever.

“Ya sure are still full of shit.”

Race felt himself cracking, his eyes widening before he tried to make a break for the door. Jack, used to Race’s quick tricks, grabbed him and yanked so both of them fell back onto Race’s bed.

Race was bigger now. His arms stronger than they had been when they were younger and Jack used to have to wrestle with Race to tire him out just so he would fall asleep easy once lights were out. It as more of a fight, Race nearly slipping out of Jack’s grasp quite a few times. But he came out on top, sitting on Race’s hips with one hand holding Race’s wrist up and the other gripping his bicep.

“Albert did it!” Race insisted, still trying to unsuccessfully wiggle away from his brother. “I just got back a few minutes ago! I swear!”

“Bullshit! You’d never have said it! I don’t need ya alibi!”

“Alib-lie, more like it, ”Albert grumbled, hopping off of the now shaking top bunk, giving up on going back to sleep.

“Shut up!”Race huffed, trying to yank his arm down to protect himself. “Ya won, Jack. Lemme go!”

“Yeah, I won, but ya ain’t sorry.”Jack spotted his brush on the bed, reaching over to snatch it. Race made a whine of annoyance when Jack snatched him back right before he managed to nearly escape. “Don’ think so, Racetrack. Come ta think of it, ya know what?” 

“What.” Race was almost pouting.

“I gotta make sure these brushes still work! Can’t paint with brushes you mighta broken when you hid them, now can I?”

“So go paint!”Race rolled his eyes. “Test em out on your wall or sumthin’.”

“I need to make sure they work everywhere. Think you could let me know?”

Race, for some reason, did not expect Jack’s fingers on his sides.

Race, for very good reason, will swear to the day he dies he does absolutely not, under any circumstances, giggle. 

Jack’s fingers were still skilled, no doubt from cheering up the other littler newsies and pestering those who considered themselves too old for Jack’s foolishness. Searching out every spot that made Race’s skin jump and giggles tumble unendingly from his lips. He had let go of his arms, knowing Race’s primary focus was going to be trying to defend himself from Jack’s hands rather than get away.

“Does it work, Race? D’ya think this brush is gonna blend well?” Jack-that evil, evil Jack asked. He had used the brush in his hand to swirl and swipe the bristles across the spots where Race’s arms were not trying weakly to protect himself, aiming especially for the bits of skin where his shirt had ridden up. “What about here,huh? What about the spot?”Jack shoved Race’s arms away, flickering the brush over the spot to the right of Race’s bellybutton where there was a dark splotch of a birthmark on his stomach.

Suddenly, for a moment they were both much younger. Race was barely thirteen and much smaller, Jack was newly fifteen and had bloomed early for his age, built much sturdier than Race was at the time. Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed, squeezing at Race’s sides and knees. He was giving him enough room to wiggle around, still giggling away at Jack’s teasing tickles. Jack was doing a favor for Blink, who would not be able to question Race on his own quite yet, and was trying to find out where Race hid his shoelaces. Jack had made him giggle and shreik until he was practically exhausted, finally yelling out “they’re in Skittery’s shoes! His left shoe!”

The way Jack was tickling him with his brushes and being annoying just enough that it was endearing and all in good fun made Race’s heart warm. That, and the fact that his entire face was flushed pink from giggling so helplessly under Jack helped.

“F-fine!”He cried out, curling in on himself as tight as Jack would allow. His arms clamped to his sides, Jack’s fingers still tickling the little exposed spots to keep him giggling, “Y-your dumb b-brushes work!”

“And?”Jack leaned in, turning so his ear was visible to Race. “I didn’t hear what you’re supossedta say, Race!”

“W-what am I supposed to say!”Race’s laughter picked up again for a brief moment as Jack’s fingers fluttered over the exposed back of his neck, right below his blonde curls ended. “Jahahack!”

“You’re supposedta say you’re sorry for stealin’ my stuff. And breakin’ into my penthouse with intent ta steal stuff that ain’t yours! For no good reason!”

“I’m s-sorry for breaking in-into the p-pehenthouse!”

“And?”He smirked.

“And stealing your stuff!”Race jumped, squirming before Jack could even touch him again.

Jack squeezed his sides again a few more times for good measure, smiling down at Race’s scrunched up face.

Race laid on the bed, panting as if Jack had tried to kill him. Jack leaned back against the pole connecting the beds, smirking down at Race. “That’ll teach ya to steal my stuff. At least for a while.”

“Next time somethin’ goes missin’, don’t think it was me!”

“Sure thing.”Jack squeezed Race’s knee to make him pull his legs up to his chest. “Next time you wanna get my attention, just say somethin’.”

Race willed the flush on his face to finish fading, knowing he was bright red. He knew his secret was safe between them. “C’mon.” He sat up, shoving his feet into his shoes. “I’m goin’ to Jacobi’s. I’m starvin’.”

Jack laughed, throwing an arm around Race as they walked toward the stairs. “That’s guilt eating at you for stealing my stuff-”

“Oh, get over it!”Race shoved his arm off and practically flew down the stairs, Jack close on his heels as they both ran out into the cool fall night.


End file.
